


Lovesick

by vintagelilacs



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Jealous Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Love Confessions, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25684441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintagelilacs/pseuds/vintagelilacs
Summary: Arthur's heart thumped hard in his chest. If Merlin ingested the potion, he would fall in love with the first person he laid eyes on. He would fall in love withArthur.Arthur opened his mouth, a warning perched on his tongue. He didn’t let it fall.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 78
Kudos: 1170





	Lovesick

**Author's Note:**

> “I will show you a love potion without drug or herb, or any witch's spell; if you wish to be loved, love.” ― Charles Lindberg

Arthur had fallen victim to love potions and enchantments countless times before, so it was almost refreshing to have his wits about him when the next love potion epidemic hit Camelot. Half the lower town were out of their minds, and he'd lost count of the number of swooning, love-struck knights he'd had to reprimand during training. 

It was with the recent surge of love potions in mind that the court appeared apprehensive when Lord Cadwell announced his betrothal to the Lady Enna, who had previously expressed nothing but disdain for the cocksure, ruddy-faced lord. After months of constant refusal, she’d changed her mind seemingly at the drop of a pin cushion. Geoffrey looked deeply uncertain ministering the marriage, but Arthur didn't allow himself to worry to excess. If sorcery was to blame and the union was indeed the result of a love potion, he had no doubt Gaius would find a remedy soon enough. He was probably already brewing up an antidote. 

After Lord Cadwell and Lady Enna's marriage rites were completed, the wedding party and a drove of servants proceeded to the banquet hall. Even if the wedding ended up proving to be a sham, at least there was a feast to be had. And another opportunity to cajole Merlin into wearing the ridiculous feathered hat. 

"No. Absolutely not." 

"Come on, Mer _lin_." Arthur tried to tug on one of his manservant's ears, but found his hand swatted away instead. "You look so comely in it." 

Merlin flushed at Arthur's words, the tips of his large ears reddening. He likely assumed it to be mockery, but for Arthur's part, he meant the comment wholeheartedly. Merlin looked comely in just about anything. Even those ghastly threadbare scarves he was so attached to.

"Nice try. But I won't be caught dead in that hat again." 

Arthur threw an arm across Merlin's bony shoulders. "But don't you want to please your prince?" 

Merlin somehow managed to blush even harder. He avoided Arthur's gaze. "Sorry, you'll have to find some other innocent victim to harass." 

"A pity." 

Merlin made a noncommittal noise as Arthur steered him towards the banquet hall. 

"Now, run along and bring me some wine." If Arthur's gaze happened to drop to Merlin's backside while his servant scurried away, no one else need know.

Unfortunately, Arthur's opportunities to tease Merlin during the feast were fleeting, and he soon lost sight of Merlin altogether. The feast was preceded by long, garrulous speeches about the sanctity of marriage and how the happy couple had a lifetime of domestic bliss awaiting them. Once the banal oration concluded, a veritable parade of food-laden trays streamed into the banquet hall. The faces of the servants were obscured behind towers of sweetmeats and sumptuous delicacies. 

Arthur murmured vague congratulations to Lord Cadwell on his marriage to the Lady Enna, and made intermittent conversation with the couple as the evening trickled by, but his chief focus was on the troupe of servants flitting in and out of the hall. Some deposited platters of food or hefted carafes of wine, while others whisked away empty plates. Most of the servants were nameless, unobtrusive specters that failed to catch on the tenterhooks of his attention. Guinevere was attending Morgana, but Arthur's own incompetent servant was nowhere to be found. 

He should have been stationed behind Arthur, prepared to anticipate his every need and tend to his dwindling cup. Instead, a different servant hovered at his elbow. Arthur hadn’t seen the short, mousey serving boy before. When the servant moved to refill his cup, Arthur held up a forestalling hand. After his last few encounters with love potions—not to mention poisons—he was a bit more cautious about who provided him drink.

A clatter rang through the hall, the sound of a servant dropping their tray. Conversation petered out. Arthur swiveled in his seat. Surely only one servant in their employ could be that clumsy. 

No, he realized. It was only a serving girl who had dropped her tray; not Arthur’s ham-handed manservant. The girl looked on the brink of tears at her blunder, but conversation among the nobles promptly resumed. Arthur took the opportunity to scour every inch of the hall. His eyes snagged on a few heads of dark hair, but none of them had the distinctive red scarf around their neck. 

"Did you need something, my lord?" The servant positioned at his elbow asked in a quavering voice. 

Arthur wondered if the lad was always so meek, or if he was a new addition to the household staff. "Yes, actually. Have you seen my manservant?" 

"He left shortly after the food was served." 

"Did he now." It hadn't escaped Arthur's notice that Sir Ector was missing as well. While he normally wouldn't care which knights and noblemen retired early, or if they were accompanied by a bed partner for the night, Sir Ector had made no secret of attraction to Merlin. Arthur's hand clenched around his empty cup. He would have to make it clear to his knights that Merlin was off-limits. As the prince's manservant, he couldn’t afford a reputation of lasciviousness. And Arthur couldn't stomach the roil of jealousy. 

If it hadn’t been for his father’s insistence that he and Morgana play dutiful hosts, Arthur would have departed from the feast already himself. He stifled a yawn. It was well into the early hours of the morning when the drunken revelry and celebrations finally tapered off and he could retire without causing offence. 

Arthur withdrew to his chambers unescorted and, to add further insult, found the room empty. The hearth was unlit, his sleeping clothes hadn’t been laid out, and there was no one present to undress him. 

If he wasn’t so tired, he'd half a mind to march down to the physician’s quarters and demand why Merlin had thought it acceptable to skive off and neglect his duties for an entire evening. And during a feast, no less. 

As Arthur divested himself of his ceremonial garb, he couldn’t help wondering if, somewhere in the castle, Merlin was helping Sir Ector undress. 

Arthur’s stomach felt queasy, both from the excess of rich food and from the niggling suspicion that Merlin had spent the night in another man’s company. A man who wasn’t Arthur. Because of course it would never be him. 

Merlin, despite his constant effrontery and impertinence, respected Arthur. He might even regard him as a friend. The gulf that existed between them as master and servant was impossible to fully bridge, and Arthur knew Merlin didn’t harbour the same feelings for him. 

As exhaustion stole over him, he couldn’t help pondering what it would be like under different circumstances, in a different life, to be the object of Merlin’s affections.  
  
  
  
  
Come morning, Arthur reached a decision. He had no right to intrude on Merlin’s private love life, but he _was_ entitled to question his whereabouts during the feast, and lecture him on his negligence. 

He waited for Merlin to arrive with breakfast, deciding that his morning meal had better include all his favorites dishes in order to make amends for last night.

Breakfast proved to be a pitiable affair, likely due to half the kitchen staff nursing hangovers. Only a single plain, unfilled pastry and two measly sausages had been arranged on his tray. 

Worst of all, it wasn’t Merlin who delivered it. 

Arthur scarfed down his meager breakfast, not properly tasting any of it. The servant that had delivered his morning meal made to dress him, but Arthur rebuffed his attempts and instead threw on a tunic and simple pair of trousers himself. 

Arthur had made it halfway to the physician's quarters before he realized his tunic was inside-out. 

Silently fuming, Arthur threw open the door leading into Gaius' quarters. The door hinge squealed a noisy protest. Arthur made a mental note to send someone to oil the hinge; he didn’t know how it hadn’t driven Gaius and Merlin mental. 

The scent of the physician’s quarters—chiefly beeswax and mint—filled his lungs on his next angry inhale. It was an aroma that never failed to calm him, likely because he associated it with the healing salve Gaius supplied when training was particularly gruelling. At the moment, however, he didn't especially want to be calm. He'd much rather cling to righteous indignation.

Arthur passed shelves of stoppered vials and racks of drying herbs. The quaint table where Merlin and Gaius shared their meals was vacant, but a congealing bowl of stew sat at Merlin’s place-mat. Arthur traced an idle finger across the table. It came away coated with dust. Nice to know Merlin was lax in his cleaning duties here as well as in Arthur's chambers. 

Arthur peeked surreptitiously into Merlin’s room, hoping to glimpse his manservant. The room was empty. Well, not exactly empty. It was filled with stray clothing articles and littered with books. It seemed Merlin had yet to learn the uses of a cupboard.

“May I help you, sire?”

Arthur whirled around, praying Gaius hadn’t thought he was snooping. He must have looked desperate peering into his manservant’s room. “Ah, Gaius. Perhaps you can shed light on where my sorry excuse for a manservant is." 

Gaius didn't miss a beat. "He's collecting herbs for me." 

"Really? And he's been doing so all night long?" 

Arthur could practically see the wheels turning in Gaius' mind. "No, only since this morning. He wasn't feeling well last night so he retired early." 

"Without notifying me." 

"It would appear so." 

"If Merlin is unwell, I'm surprised you would send him out to fetch herbs. It must have been exceedingly important." 

Gaius cleared his throat. "As a matter of fact, it is. I'm sure you're aware of the love potion epidemic besieging Camelot." 

"Of course. I'd have to be both blind and deaf not to have noticed the absurd number of elopements and betrothals in the past week." 

"I've made progress on an antidote, but I'm missing a few key ingredients, hence why I sent Merlin." 

"I see." Gaius' explanation sounded plausible, but Arthur suspected he had only offered a partial truth. “Have you reported the epidemic to my father?” 

Gaius deliberated his answer. “I did not wish to alarm King Uther.” _Given that he loses his mind every time sorcery is implicated_ went unsaid. 

“Any idea who’s responsible for the latest epidemic?” Arthur asked. 

“I’m afraid not, sire. It appears to have been sourced from a traveling merchant, but he’s already passed through Camelot. We’d have little chance of tracking him down.”

In that case, it would definitely be a waste of resources, but Arthur knew his father may not agree. “When do you expect the antidote will be ready?" 

"Depending on when Merlin returns, the antidote should be finished by this evening. Replicating and mass producing it will be another matter, of course." Gaius gestured to a beaker that was heating over an open flame. 

"Do you have an estimate?" 

"If we're fortunate, the epidemic should be thwarted before the moon is full. In the meanwhile, I would exercise caution when accepting food and drink. Whoever consumes the potion falls in love with the first person they lay eyes on." 

The mere memory of Arthur's past run-ins with love potions was enough to make him cringe. Most incidents involving love potions left him without even the faintest recall of what had transpired, but the incidents he could remember were beyond embarrassing. He had no problem handling physical threats, but love potions were a different matter. 

"Is there a way to identify this particular strain of love potion?" Arthur asked. "So that I know what to avoid?" 

"As a matter of fact..." Gaius directed his attention to the bowl of flaccid vegetables and lumpy pottage at Merlin's place mat. The broth glittered faintly and smelled saccharine, similar to the floral perfumes noblewomen liked to douse themselves in. “This stew was laced with the potion. I confiscated it a quarter of an hour ago.” 

"From whom?" If Gaius knew who was administering the love potion, he should have reported it.

The old healer hesitated, meditating on his response. "A young seamstress who was having difficulty making romantic headway. I crossed her path when she was on the way to deliver the stew. She was acting odd, and when I asked if she was well, she broke down and confessed. No actual crime was committed, sire." 

"Not in this case," he pointed out. 

Gaius inclined his head. 

“Well, now that I know what to look—er, _smell_ for, I’ll take extra precautions.” 

“See to it that you do.” Arthur started to turn away, when Gaius spoke up. "Actually sire, would you mind keeping an eye on the antidote while I finish my rounds? I don’t want to risk this potion burning or exploding like my last attempt.”

Arthur had no pressing concerns until the council meeting scheduled for the evening, but he could think of a thousand things he’d rather do than loiter in the physician’s quarters. Still, Gaius was not an easy man to say ‘no’ to. 

“Sir Gregory is in need of this,” Gaius continued. He lifted a curved flask filled from a basket brimming with colourful tonics and liquid remedies. 

“Is he all right?” Sir Gregory was an older knight in their employ, and of good repute. 

Gaius measured his words carefully. “He’s been having a bit of performance trouble. I’ve also advised adding oysters to his diet.” 

Arthur tried and failed to stifle a snort. “Why don’t I deliver the flask to Sir Gregory while you watch over the potion?” It sounded like the quicker (and less dull) option of the two. 

Gaius didn’t pause to consider the counteroffer. “Sir Gregory would be upset if anyone else was to deliver it. He’s rather sensitive about his... dysfunction. Normally I’d assign Merlin to oversee the antidote, but he’s yet to return. Don't worry, sire," Gaius mollified. “My rounds won’t take more than an hour.” 

“An hour?” Arthur echoed. Did Gaius really expect him to sit here and twiddle his thumbs for a full hour? He was the crown prince! 

“Oh, and if you get bored, the leech tank needs cleaning.” 

No wonder Merlin treated Arthur with so much disrespect—he’d clearly taken a page out of Gaius’ book. Not that Arthur could berate Gaius. He didn’t want to incur the wrath of Gaius’ eyebrow, and it was hardly wise to offend a man with an entire cabinet dedicated to poisons. 

Gaius excused himself without waiting for a further reply. Wasn’t that just typical. No one seemed to remember that Arthur was, in fact, royalty, and under no obligation to obey the orders of the serving class! 

Arthur ducked his head into the corridor, searching for an errant guard to relegate the task to. Of course the hallway was empty. He sighed gustily, and resigned himself to a dull hour. To his relief, only a sparse few minutes had passed when the backdoor was flung open. 

“I’ve had it with that bloody dragon!” Merlin’s voice preceded his entrance. 

Arthur folded his arms. “What’s this about a dragon?” 

Merlin jumped half a foot in the air, mouth agape. “D- _dragonfly_. There was this dragonfly that, um, landed on my sandwich. And took a bite out of it.” 

“Only you, Merlin.” 

Merlin fidgeted, twisting his red neckerchief the way he did when he was nervous. Arthur was relieved to note there were no discolourations or love bites marring Merlin's pale throat. “What brings you here?” 

“I’m the Crown Prince of Camelot; I don’t have to answer to you.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “‘Course not. Is there anything I can help you with, sire?” As always, ‘sire’ was uttered with a mocking lilt. Before Arthur could respond, Merlin’s gaze settled on the bowl of pottage. “Thank god. I’m starving.”

“Your sandwich wasn’t enough for you?” Where did Merlin put it all? He was whipcord thin but Arthur swore there were days when Merlin ate more than he did. 

“My what? Oh. Er, no. That dragonfly took a very large bite.” 

"Shame you didn't think to help yourself to any leftovers from last night's feast. But then, I suppose you'd actually have to have been present at the feast to do so."

"What are you talking about? I served you wine, remember?" 

"Yes, and left almost immediately after." 

"That's because I was um, investigating." 

Arthur arched his brow. "Investigating what, pray tell?" 

"I have reason to suspect Lord Cadwell gave Lady Enna a love potion." 

"Careful, Merlin. Coming from a servant, that sounds remarkably like treason." 

"Don't tell me you don't believe it too." 

Arthur did believe it, but without proof, the suggestion was tantamount to slander. 

"Half the lower town has been drugged by love potions by now," Merlin added as he plopped into his chair, hand already reaching for a nearby spoon. 

Arthur's gaze fixated on the bowl of stew resting at Merlin’s place setting. It was only natural for him to assume Gaius had left it for him. If Gaius hadn’t briefed Merlin beforehand, how was he to know that the stew was spiked with love potion? 

“Merlin, wait!”

“What?” Merlin startled at his outburst, his spoonful of stew inches from his mouth. 

Arthur froze. If Merlin ingested the potion-laced stew, he would fall in love with the first person he laid eyes on. 

He would fall in love with Arthur. 

Arthur opened his mouth, a warning perched on his tongue. He didn’t let it fall. 

"Are you feeling all right, sire? You look unwell. More so than usual, that is." 

Arthur didn't answer. It was as if all his limbs had seized, or an enchantment had rendered him immobile. His heart thumped hard in his chest. Merlin had witnessed Arthur under the effects of love potions before (and taunted him mercilessly afterwards), but the reverse had never occurred. Arthur had no idea what Merlin would look like in love, or how he would act. Arthur had imagined it, had dreamed about Merlin returning his affections, but it was a fanciful wish. Merlin had never expressed any interest in Arthur in such a manner. And he never would. Unless—

Merlin shrugged to himself and swallowed the mouthful of stew before Arthur could sort through his moral quandary. Merlin continued to eat, oblivious to Arthur's disquiet. 

"Merlin." Arthur's voice sounded garbled and choked to his own ears.

"Hmm?" At last he looked up, his eyes meeting Arthur's. 

"Do you, um, do you feel any different?" 

Merlin's brow furrowed. “Why?" He glanced at the bowl. "Was it poisoned?”

Arthur couldn’t suppress a guilty flinch. “Don’t be absurd. It wasn’t _poisoned._ ”

“Did you sneeze all over it or something?” 

Arthur felt caught between guilty relief and crushing disappointment. "You don't feel any different? Towards me?" 

"No?" Merlin tilted his head. "Well, I am starting to feel a bit concerned. Did you fall out of bed this morning and hit your head?" 

"I don't look different to you?" he confirmed.

"No, you still look like a bone idle toad." 

When Arthur didn't reply with a scathing retort, the indent between Merlin's brows deepened. He twirled the wooden spoon between his thumb and forefinger. "Arthur? Are you all right?" 

Arthur was stumped. Perhaps it took a few minutes for the potion to be absorbed into the stomach lining and take effect. Or maybe Merlin had to ingest a certain quantity for the potion to work. Or perhaps Gaius was mistaken and the stew wasn't actually laced with love potion at all. 

"Seriously, what's the matter with you?" 

Arthur's voice failed him, but luckily, the interruption of footsteps spared him from answering. 

Gaius shuffled inside. “It would seem the last dosage of potion worked _too_ well on Sir Gregory. He now requires a potion that will lower his libido.” Gaius chuckled, but his mirth faded when he saw the spoon in Merlin's hand and the bowl in front of him. 

“Merlin, be careful. That stew contains love potion.” 

Merlin’s arm froze midair, keeping the spoon suspended. 

“It what?” he intoned quietly. 

“Didn’t Arthur tell you?” 

“No. He didn’t.” 

“Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t ingest any yet.” 

“Yes,” Merlin agreed, still in that dangerously quiet voice. His lips bled pale and angry when he pressed them together. 

Arthur's mouth went dry as bone. "Merlin—" 

His manservant pushed out from the table in a motion so swift it nearly toppled his chair. Merlin pushed past Arthur and strode out the backdoor without another word. The door slammed shut behind him. 

Arthur risked a glance in Gaius' direction, and instantly regretted it. Gaius’ face was as unyielding as a block of stone. “Is there something you’d like to tell me, sire?”

Never mind that Arthur was the Crown Prince of Camelot. At the moment, he felt like a naughty child caught stealing sweetmeats from the kitchens. He cringed under the force of the Eyebrow. Gaius didn’t need to admonish him verbally. His impossibly arched brow and look of utter disappointment succeeded in making the knot of guilt in Arthur’s stomach tighten. “Not especially.”

“I think it would be prudent if you did anyway." 

Arthur fiddled with his tunic. “I may have not stopped Merlin from eating the stew and ingesting the love potion.” 

Gaius huffed. "What were you thinking? The pair of you are no better than children." 

“It hardly matters! You were wrong, Gaius. The stew wasn't laced with love potion.”

“I can assure you it was.”

“Then the potion was a dud. It doesn't work.”

Gaius’ frown deepened. “It's actually rather potent, as love potions go.” 

A lump lodged in Arthur’s throat. What did it say about him that not even a love potion could make Merlin feel for him? He was unlovable even with a love potion at his aid. And a potent love potion, at that. 

"I know it was wrong," he said quietly. "I regretted not saying anything as soon as he swallowed it." 

"I'm not the one you should be saying this too." 

Arthur shuffled his feet. "I'll go find him." 

"With all due respect, sire, I don't think Merlin wishes to speak with you at the moment." 

"Oh. Right. Of course. Later then." He all but fled into the corridor, feeling the tangible weight of Gaius' disapproving frown on his back.  
  
  
  
  
Miserable and guilt-ridden, the council meeting Arthur attended that evening was more unbearable than usual. Gaius was present as well, but Arthur didn't dare meet his gaze. The only solace was the distraction the meeting afforded. As long as Arthur focused on stately matters, he could ignore the persistent ache in his chest.

He resolved to apologize to Merlin the next instance he saw him, but his bedchambers were conspicuously absent that night. The following morning, a different servant was on hand to serve him and fulfill his every request. The reserved, deferential respect the servant showed him only served to make Arthur feel worse, but he supposed Merlin would return when he felt ready to do so. 

When three days passed without Merlin serving him, Arthur determined to seek him out. He’d mistreated Merlin before due to lapses in temper or patience, but he didn’t know if this was something he could easily remedy. Future kings weren't supposed to apologize, let alone grovel, but it was worth jeopardizing his pride if it meant getting Merlin to forgive him. 

Arthur stood irresolute outside the door to the physician's quarters. His hand was poised to knock, but indecision prevented him from completing the motion. Before he could settle on a decision, he caught the low sound of conversing voices. Well, Gaius' voice was pitched low. Merlin's was decidedly louder. 

“The prince was despondent at the council meeting. How long do you intend to avoid him? ” 

“I don't care! He was trying to humiliate me!”

“He looks like a kicked dog when you’re absent.” 

Arthur pulled a face. He most certainly did not! Deciding he had heard enough, he pushed open the door. The squealing hinge announced his arrival. 

Gaius and Merlin swivelled. Merlin's mouth dropped open in surprise, but he quickly induced a blank expression. 

"Sire," Gaius acknowledged. Merlin didn't say anything. 

"Gaius," Arthur acknowledged in turn. "I was hoping I might have a word with Merlin." He took a fortifying breath. "To apologize." 

"Of course, sire." Merlin shot Gaius a betrayed expression that the old healer took no note of. "I have business to attend to anyway." Despite his words, Gaius simply retreated to his bedroom, providing them the illusion of privacy while still well within earshot. 

Arthur cleared his throat with a rumble. "So, um, how have you been?"

"Fine," was Merlin's curt response. 

Arthur shifted from foot-to-foot. He wasn’t used to being treated with such frigid indifference, least of all from Merlin. “Look, I know I was a total dollophead.” 

Merlin dissembled his emotions behind a blank expression. “No. I don’t think there’s a word strong enough for what you are.” 

Arthur grappled for words. He should have rehearsed this. “I knew Gaius had an antidote in the works. I wouldn’t have let it go on for long.”

“That doesn’t matter!" Merlin burst out. "You shouldn’t have let it happen at all!” 

Arthur had rarely seen Merlin well and truly angry, and his anger had never before been directed at Arthur. Annoyance and exasperation, yes, but not the searing anger that left Merlin's face flushed and muscles tensed. If anything, Merlin usually only displayed anger towards people who were threatening Arthur. In the past, Arthur had found these scarce displays of rage from Merlin rather arousing, with his blue eyes stormy and his voice roughened and deep like liquid sex. Now, however, he felt decidedly more ashamed than turned on. 

“I’m sorry. Gods Merlin, I’d take it back if I could. I know more than anyone what it’s like to be manipulated by love potions.”

“Then why did you do it?” 

“I wanted… to know what it would be like.” 

“For me to make a fool of myself?” Merlin guessed. "Were you really that deprived of entertainment?" 

Normally Arthur would have quipped that Merlin didn’t need any assistance making a fool of himself, but he knew it wouldn’t be appropriate. “No. For you to…” he trailed off. 

Merlin shook his head. "You were making fun of me. Just like you always do." 

Arthur spluttered. "That isn't—that's not true." 

"All you do is call me names and hit me!" 

"Hang on! You call me names too! In fact, you were the one who started the name-calling business when you called me a prat! And I don't hit you. They're playful taps." And the only excuse Arthur could think of to touch Merlin. 

"Right," Merlin's voice oozed sarcasm. "You _never_ tease me." 

Arthur was baffled. "Well, I do tease you," he conceded. Was Merlin really that bothered by his playful insults and jabs? "But it's not mean-spirited teasing." 

"Sure it isn't." Merlin's expression didn't budge.

"It's not—it was." He averted his gaze, and scuffed the edge of his boot against the stone-flagged floor. "Flirting." 

_"What?"_

"How could you not hear me with those giant ears of yours?" Arthur tried to conceal his embarrassment with annoyance. "I said _flirting_." 

"You. Flirting. With me."

He forged past his embarrassment. “I’ve wanted you for so long. And I was jealous. I’ve seen some of the knights and noblemen make eyes at you. I wanted to know what it would be like for my feelings to be reciprocated, for you to love me. Even if it was only for a moment.” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “And even if it was a lie.” 

“How could you.”

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut. His stomach wrenched with guilt, tightening to the point of pain. 

“How could you think I don’t love you?” 

His eyes flew opening, gaze questioning. Merlin's words had to be in jest. "What are you saying?" 

Merlin's voice gentled. "Arthur. There’s only one reason why a love potion fails to take effect. Love potions can’t make you fall in love with someone if you’re already in love with them. That’s why it didn’t work.” 

“It what?” 

“I’m telling you I’m in love with you, you great clotpole. I think a part of me always has been.”

"You love me?" 

"I’m still angry with you, though." 

Arthur winced. "I know. And you have every right to be." 

Merlin stepped closer. "But I can think of a way for you to make it up to me." His eyes flickered meaningfully towards Arthur's lips. 

"Yeah?" Arthur leaned in, but before he could capture Merlin's lips with his own, his infuriating manservant darted out of the way. 

"Yeah. You can start by giving me a raise, and performing all of my duties for the next week." 

"I'd be happy to." Arthur grinned. "Because as your prince, the only duty I'm assigning you for the next week is to kiss me." He reached for Merlin's hand and gently reeled him in. 

This time, Merlin didn't pull away when Arthur leaned in to kiss him. The kiss was tentative and soft, but it filled Arthur with a sense of rightness. There was nowhere else he'd rather be than in this moment, with Merlin in his arms. 

"Mm." Merlin pulled back with a pleased hum. "Are you sure kissing is the _only_ thing you want to do for the next week?" 

"Well, I suppose there are other things." 

"Really? Like what?" 

Before Arthur could put his imagination to good use and elaborate, Gaius burst back into the room. "That's enough of that. If you're both quite done, I have a love potion antidote for the Lady Enna"—he thrust a translucent bottle into Arthur's hands—"and a list of ingredients I need for the next batch of antidote." This he gave to Merlin. "Now shoo." 

Arthur had no intention of incurring Gaius' disapproving arched eyebrow again. He obeyed the order without objection, but not before sneaking in another quick kiss from Merlin.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are appreciated


End file.
